All the Scattered Pictures
by Gloria Armstrong
Summary: This story is actually about Billie Joe and all the people that inspired the love songs over the years. I hope you enjoy :
1. Price I'll pay to see that you're happy

She was the first girl he ever loved. It's funny, Juliet didn't believe in love until Billie showed her what it was. She had spent her time in her hometown, New York, wasting her beauty on worthless assholes who threw her out after drunken one night stands, which built up on her until her self- respect had been washed away with her mascara tears. They met when she was in California for a year, trying to get away, before going home again. When he saw her for the first time, she was at Gilman, trying to make a living as a bar tender while guys tried to get some ass from her. He could see that she was defeated. Not broken, shattered, or destroyed, simply defeated, like a once grand racehorse past its prime. Except that he could tell just by looking at her that she was in her prime now. He also realized that she was wasting it.

After keeping tabs on her all night, he located the asshole that was taking her home for the night and followed her out when she left to meet him. He caught up with her in the parking lot just before she turned the corner to meet up with whoever he was.

"Wait up!" he called, and she turned.

"What?" she asked impatiently.

"Do you actually want to leave with him?" he asked and she raised a stony eyebrow at him.

"Excuse me?" she asked the look in her eyes positively lethal.

"You heard me. You don't actually want to leave with him tonight," he said, speaking slowly.

"What makes you so sure?" she asked, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth at his arrogance.

"Because you rolled your eyes like you were having a seizure while he was sweet talking you. Because that's how you treat every guy who wants to make you their own for the night," he said and she glared at him.

"That's not true!" she retorted, feeling her own lie as it left her lips.

"Stop lying to yourself!" he practically yelled. He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but he wanted-he needed- her to see that she was worth more than some disposable piece of ass.

"You're an asshole," she spat at him and he smiled, and held up his arms in a careless shrug.

"Welcome to me, babe. You're still wrong," he sighed in a cocky sort of way that made her stomach turn with dislike.

"I hate you!" she said fiercely. Far from phase him, her words made him smile.

"That's good!" he said encouragingly and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"What?" she said, confused.

"Hate's the closest thing in the world to love-it's the most passionate," he replied, his smile softening from cocky to caring, and she had to fight to stay mad.

"It's not passionate-" she began, but he cut her off quietly.

"Yes it is-and that's good. Keep that fire in you alive, it's very valuable. I can imagine someone is missing that fire very much. Who did you leave behind for this life?" he asked, knowing he was taking it too far.

"I didn't have anyone to leave behind, but you obviously must, someone as wise as you," she said sarcastically, and he inclined his head as though it was a compliment, while she continued. "So, really. Who did you leave behind to chase me out here?" she asked and he laughed a bitter laugh.

"Nothing I care to go back for. So are you in or out?" he asked and she furrowed her eyebrows.

"In or out of what?" she asked and he held out his hand.

"Dinner with me. Look, you can either go home and fuck that slimeball, or I can take you out to dinner and drop you off at your house," he said, laying her options out on the table for her. Her eyes darted back toward the way she had been walking, where her companion stood waiting and then back to Billie, hand still outstretched.

"Okay," she said, taking his hand and he smiled.

"See that wasn't so hard was it?" he asked and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"I still hate you," she said softly.

"I still have all night to change your mind," he reminded her and true to his word, within twenty minutes of dinner with him, she realized how right Billie was about the fine line between love and hate-for her, the line had been almost invisible, she never knew she had crossed it until they were getting in his car and he kissed her. And by then, they had reached the point of no return.

Her favorite thing about that night was his bed. It was soft and comfy and it made it easier for her to cuddle closer to him, as his arm came around her and kept her warm while he stroked her hair until she fell asleep.

The next morning was the beginning of 12 perfect months. She moved out of the small house she was renting within two weeks of that perfect night, and began living with him. He showed her everything, how to cook amazing meals, how to fix a broken down old truck without spending a dime, how to drink shots without chasers, how to play guitar, and how love and be loved. He wrote her a song, and sang it to her every night until it was a constant soundtrack to their whole lives. She used to hum it while working at the bar, but she quit that job after a long night at the bar, and she had been doodling on a napkin. The guy sitting at the bar saw and asked to see her work, and the next thing she knew, she found herself a job as an artist at the guy's tattoo shop. That was how Billie ended up with the butterfly tattoo on his wrist. He remembered lying about worrying about it hurting- he just wanted to hold her hand while she etched the dark wings onto his skin with the other. And then, twenty minutes later, wrist still aching, Billie expertly traced his own initials onto her hip. She would never forget him.

He introduced her to the band, and Mike and Tre fell in love with her too. Tre actually was interested enough to cause problems at one point, but it passed, with Juliet constantly remaining Billie's girl. She was his girl all the way to January 10th of the next year. Juliet had to go home.

"Don't be sad," she begged, and he smiled a little sadly, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

"I'm not. I just- I hope you will be okay," he said and she took his hand.

"I'm alright," she said and he nodded, moving a bit closer to her.

"Do you regret any of it?" he asked and she shook her head.

"No, nothing. Its just-it was just, enough you know? Too much more and we would have gone crazy. Too much of a good thing can do that to you," she joked and he smiled at her intimately.

"Thank you for learning that. So few people do," he said, and kissed her one last time.

"Stay in touch?" she asked, and he smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as one often does with a very good friend.

"Of course. It would be hardest of all never to see you or talk to you again, little J," he said, and she laughed.

"I hate you," she whispered lovingly, and he smiled.

"Good, hate's the closest thing to love," he sighed and hugged her before kissing the top of her head, and he saw her board a plane back to her home, away from him.

They did stay in touch as promised. They told each other everything, and he was even invited to her wedding. He admits even now to feeling a bit of a twinge of regret at that moment, but it passed and he went, with Tre and Mike in tow. Juliet's wedding was beautifully anti-tradition, just like everything else about her, least of which because Billie got to be the "maid of honor". After the ceremony, she came up to him and hugged him like no other.

"Are you alright? Is this hard for you?" she asked and he smiled brightly.

"Jules, are you happy? Are you in love, do you feel loved?" he asked, and she smiled at the familiarity of the words. He was always checking up on her.

"Yes, yes, to all three questions, yes," she said, admitting only with her tone of voice that she was thanking him for everything, that she owed him everything. He got the message.

"Then I am the happiest man on earth today," he said, brushing hair out of her eyes. "So different than how you were when you first came into my life," he whispered and she blinked and put an arm around his shoulders.

"You haven't changed a bit. You're the same old Billie Joe. That's good. Don't ever stop being you," she said, and he smiled.

"Don't worry about that," he told her, and she laughed.

"Did you keep the tattoo?" she asked, and he nodded, showing her.

"How about you?" he asked and she unzipped the side of her dress so that he could see the tattoo, three letters, on her hip.

"I couldn't get rid of it," she asked and he smiled, helping her zip her dress back up before watching her walk back to her husband.

They still keep in touch. In fact, Billie is reminiscing about Jules as he reads her email. She wants her little girl to see California, and she is wondering if he could show them around the city. He replies yes, and adds that they could even stay with him if they don't want to bother with hotels. It's strange to him that he is alone while his little boys, Jakob and Joey are at their mother's house, and Juliet, the wildest girl in the world, is happy with a loving, unbroken family. It's funny, he thinks, that of the two of them, she deserved it more. He scrolls to the top of the message- she's got a daughter now. He looked forward to meeting the little girl, wondering what she would be like, and hoped against hope, for the little girl's sake, that she would at least be like her mother, if only just a little bit.


	2. Sullen Riot penetrating through her mind

She was always in her own world, which was one of the many things that Billie loved about her. When he saw her for the first time, she was doing some tricky dance choreography that looked as though it flowed from her seamlessly like a river rushes to the ocean. He wasn't supposed to have seen her- he was dropping his guitar off in the music room and she had taken advantage of the absence of the band offered by getting to school too early for words, which Billie was forced to do every day because his mother took him before going to work.

But, as it turned out, he opened the door, and whether he should have or not, he DID see her, and he watched her twirl and leap, kick and bend every which way, lost in her music. He put his guitar in the corner and left the room as she continued, not noticing his presence at all. She was in her own world.

The first time they met was because she ran right into him in the hallways, causing him to topple over.

"Sorry, I didn't see you," she apologized before helping him up and gathering his books for him. As she helped him, he noticed the electric guitar sound filtering through the air and noticed it was coming from the headphones around her neck. She hadn't seen or heard him because her music was up too loud, and she was in her own imagination. He learned her real name, after weeks of noticing her, not knowing who she was and labeling her "She" in his mind, because she was in her little world. It was in math class, and the teacher asked them to pass their papers up to the front. A friend sitting in the front row passed her paper back to her, reminding her that she had forgotten to write her name on the assignment.

"Thanks, Carly. I totally spaced out," she laughed and wrote her name on the top in perfect handwriting. He peaked over at her seat to find that he could read what she had written: Sarah Hailey Evans. S.H.E. It was too perfect, and Billie found himself laughing at the irony.

"Something funny, Billie?" she asked him, and he felt his heart stop.

"No, nothing's funny. I just- I like your name, Sarah Hailey. It's pretty," he said, blushing and turning away.

"Thanks. I like your name too, I've never met a Billie Joe before," she smiled and he grinned at her.

"Well, don't go looking for one. I don't think they will be half as cool as me," he replied, trying for a cocky approach. She didn't seem impressed as much as she seemed to agree, which surprised him.

"I suppose that's true isn't it?" she said and he laughed, trying to think of something to say that would allow him to continue to appear to be clever, but she had already smiled at him once more, turned around to face the black board and pulled her headphones on over her ears. He had lost her to her fantasy.

The first time they kissed happened quite luckily for her-her perfect world nearly killed her. He saw her standing on a street corner listening to her music, nodding her head and tapping her hand on her leg in time to the song. He smiled and walked a little faster, longing to be closer to her. As she tried to cross, a huge truck sped forward out of nowhere. She wasn't paying attention and she kept moving, till she was almost in the middle of the street. He sprinted forward, yelling her name, until she turned and he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to safety.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly, and he nodded, suddenly acutely aware that his hands were still on her hips. He was about to move them when she inched closer to him. "You don't have to move your hands," she whispered.

"Good," he sighed and he leaned in and kissed her. That night as they walked to her house, hand in hand, he told her about his band, his family, his father, and his best friend mike, while she told him about her own little world.

"It makes everything better, you know?" she said brightly, and he supposed that it was like a happy place, but really he knew that for her it was so much more than that. It was her dreamland. That's what Billie called it anyway. It was the place where she kept all her memories, all her ideals, her plans to change the world, and above all, her heart.

"You're just like what my dreamland imagined you to be," she loved to tell him, and he loved hearing it because it was her way of saying that to her, he was perfect, her dream come true. He would kiss her pink, full lips and tell her that he couldn't have possibly imagined a more beautiful girl. That was when her dreamland was most beautiful to him; when she took him there too. It was a wonderful place, her imagination, and he felt, sometimes, when he closed his eyes and held her hand, that they were seeing it together, that the world had fallen away, and they were alone together in their world. They weren't fuck-ups, dweebs, stoners, idiots, space cadets, or whatever other names the kids at school called them. They might have to return there eventually, but for that moment, they were just Sarah and Billie and they were in love.

But it wasn't all fun and games. Billie would never be able to forget the night he realized why her dream world was necessary, why she couldn't live without it. It was late, and he was walking up the path to Sarah's house, when he heard noises, yelling, breaking glass. A man's voice yelling things like, "You little slut!" and other obscenities. Billie stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to move. What the fuck was happening in there? He wondered in shock. Through the window on the second floor, he saw Sarah turn on the light and rush to the bathroom, a few minutes later reappearing, holding a towel to her forehead, which was bleeding badly, and she seemed to have other injuries elsewhere. Billie's vision turned to red then, and he climbed the wall to her window with speed and agility that surprised even him. She was sitting on her bed, unmoving, bleeding, injured, and looking almost dead.

"Sarah!" he said, weakly, holding his arm out to her. She blinked, and looked up, surprised, then she glared at him.

"I was in my dream land," she said numbly, and a sob escaped his throat.

"I know. Take my hand, Sarah, I'll take you there again. Come with me, remember how we go there all the time? Let's do that again, you and I," he said weakly, and she ran into his arms, and began to cry on his shoulder. He had taken her back to his house then, and he cleaned her up in a long shower that they enjoyed together. After that, they repeated their performance on his bed, afterwhich she looked up at him and said, "Now that is something my dream land never included. Sharing myself entirely with you," she said and he kissed her soft, pink lips gently.

"That doesn't have to change your dream," he said, hoping to god that her dream land was still with her, that she would stil have that to survive. True, it had little relation to reality, but she loved it, and he couldn't be the one to take it from her.

"It already has. You are my dreamland," she said and kissed him with all the love in the world, and for awhile, they were happy again. And Sarah would always say that one day, she would run away from home, and that Billie would know when she had done it, and that he would follow her to their dream land. And he had always said yes. And she would look at him with all the love in the world.

But all the love in the world didn't stop her from leaving, and it couldn't stop him from staying. It happened for no reason except that Billie knew that in the end, it was what was best for her. It happened one morning, when Billie awoke and his window was open. He was cold, and he couldn't feel Sarah anymore. She used to be there, always, but this morning, it was different. He looked around the room, until he found the paper folded and taped to his mirror. He unfolded it and read the words written there, in her beautiful handwriting.

Dear Billie,

I will always love you.

-S.H.E.

P.S. I'll see you there.

And he turned the paper over so find a drawing of hers- it was just the two of them, laying together in a hammock, surrounded by dream land, so beautiful it could only have come from her. She had drawn everything in color, even him, except herself. She remained a black and white sketch. But to him, she was more than that. She was the color, not he. She was his love, his life, and now, his missing piece. But he let her continue to be missing. She was gone, and if he loved her, he would leave her alone. But he could write her a song. And he did. And years later, he would see her, on the hill they used to sit on together, her headphones blaring as always, and they were playing her song. And he sat beside her, words unspoken, a note that she had written him sitting between them: _My dream land is still waiting for you. _And his reply: _And mine is waiting for you. _With the notes unfolded on the grass, they watched the sunset, waiting for the day when they would come together in dream land again, listening to the song he had written for her, only her, out of love:

_She…She screams in silence…_


End file.
